When Blogs Attack

Perhaps you saw this entry that I posted last Sunday.  One of my weekly recollections about life the way it used to be.  My memories of entering the ninth grade.  I got a lot of nice comments from some of you.  Thanks so much.

Meanwhile, whenever I do a piece like this which is hometown-Mount-Vernon-New-York-specific, I often post it on Facebook on a page that is not my own.  It's called "I Grew Up in Mount Vernon" and I thought those folks might appreciate the memory jog as well.  From comments I received from people I did not know, I did.

Except for one individual, whose comment on Facebook was so nasty that I subsequently deleted the whole thread.  But it gave me pause to think about this person some more in the context of what I wrote.

You may remember that one of the revelations I discussed in this piece was that, going to a school that wasn't on the South Side of Mount Vernon, I was, for the very first time, exposed to a mainly white student body, which just happened to predominantly Jewish.  I also was, for the very first time, staying on a school campus all day long as opposed to going home for lunch and maybe an hour of television.  This was a big deal to me and a major change in my life.

I thought it all harmless and totally in context of what was happening in Mount Vernon at that time.  And, by the way, I was all of thirteen years old.

Now read what this commenter posted on Facebook.

Growing up in Mt. Vernon, I always embraced the diversity and always had a "United Nations" of friends, I still do. I never labeled people by there religion and made judgements about them because of it. I also never decided not to be friends with someone because they might be better looking. I think you were very shallow and immature. You missed going home for lunch to watch tv in 9th grade......really?

I was completed floored by this response.  Imposing adult reactions on somebody who was barely a teenager in a world that was totally changed for me overnight.

Back in this day, yes, Mount Vernon was a United Nations.  But the city was also completely bi-polar, fatally divided by those New Haven Railroad train tracks that cut the city into two segregated halves.  The South Side was more Black and poorer.  The North Side was more White and richer.  And, indeed, predominantly Jewish.  That was a fact.

Moreover, this was a time and an era where neighborhoods were divided according to class, race, and ethnicity.  Like it or not, there was the Italian section.  There was the Irish section.  There was the poorer home section.  There was the fancier home section.  That was the way it was.  I never made judgments (obviously, this idiot of a commenter can't spell) based on any of those criteria.  Indeed, within the body of the story, you hear about a ninth grade acquaintance I made who became a lifelong friend to this day.  He happens to be Jewish.  Yet, we never discuss it.

This vile response comes from a person who knows nothing about me.   This clown has no clue what my life has been, who I'm friends with, how I've contributed to the world.  She (yes, a woman) makes a knee-jerk assessment of my character and, using her own words, I can't believe that somebody could be that shallow and immature.  

And, if I was that unsettled that I simply wanted to go home for lunch and watch television, well, so be it.

Of course, her comments prompted me to do a little bit of a drill down on her own background.   From what I can see, she's one of those professional "hand wringers."  Eternally pledging a life of tolerance but is totally intolerant of anyone with an opinion that's not her.

But, gee, then I'm making the same type of snap judgment (spelled correctly) that she made.  

So, I'm humbled a bit and I think twice about posting a blog entry on a site full of strangers.  But, at the same time, I'm troubled about a response like this person's.  And her incredible zeal at sharing it on a spot that's supposedly to be nothing more than nostalgic.

Shame, shame on her.  That's not a gut reaction on my part.  And there's something else I know for sure.

From her Facebook photos, she's got a nose that could siphon gasoline out of a Cadillac Escalade.

Yeah, I can be nasty, too.

Dinner last night:  Louisiana sausage at the Dodger game.